As Told Over Brunch is a home for intelligent discourse from the twenty-something perspective - so the stuff you gossip about over mimosas on Sunday morning or over takeout on your friend's couch when happy hour ends too early. We love chatting about our lives, whether it be the relationships we’re building (or destroying), lessons we've learned at work, struggles at school, growing pains we've felt, or even the food we’re talking over.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've had some interactions with friends that I think were less than appreciated. I mean, I wouldn't appreciate them. In most circumstances I'm either not sure what I was thinking or I just wasn't thinking, period. Or I was drunk. Either way, I decided I should share these incidents so readers can avoid repeating my prat falls.

The first happened at dinner with my friend. We had finished eating when the waitress came over and asked if she could get us anything else. Maybe it was the pizza, maybe it was the rum and diet, but I said, "Sure, could I get coke?"

Waitress: "Another soda?"

Me: "No, like a line of coke."

My friend stared at me. Honestly I would have stared at me too. And it's not like I've even seen cocaine. If the waitress had procured this requested line of coke, I would have assumed it was sugar and salt and promptly informed her I don't have any baking planned, so no, thank you.

I quickly told our waitress I was joking. As she left, my friend whispered, "What is wrong with you?"

Me: "I'm not sure."

After dinner, we walked to 7-Eleven to grab some chasers for drinks we were going to make back at my apartment. At the counter, my friend decided to buy some mints, too. Her purse caught on the gum and candy racks, though.

"You didn't pay for that," I said and nodded at her purse.

The cashier paused as he handed back her change. He couldn't see below the counter to what might have fallen into her purse.

"I'm just kidding," I clarified for the second time that night. The cashier's expression did not change. I don't think he got it.

Outside, I said to my friend, "What if he had taken me seriously? He could have called the cops."

"And you would have been arrested for being drunk in public," she replied.

That weekend I went out with a different friend. A group of us boarded the elevator to go down to our Uber. My friend wrapped her arm around me and asked, "Will you be my wingman tonight?"

"Sure," I said, and I swung my arm around to wrap around her, too. Except my elbow whacked her in the eye.

"Ah!"

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry! Oh my god."

"I think I might have a black eye."

Our other friends looked over. "What happened?" they said.

My friend: "Did any of you ever play soccer? It's like when you're the goalie and you're trying to block the ball and it hits you in the face. He hit me that hard with his elbow. Is there a bruise?"

We all inspected her eye in the hallway lighting. "No, there isn't anything," we assured her. And I said I'm sorry three times over.

"It feels like it's swelling," she murmured. She opted to sit in the front of the Uber so she could check her eye in the mirror. Soon she was retelling the story to the driver.

"I am so sorry," I kept interjecting.

"You hit me really hard," she said as if I didn't know this.

Thankfully, her eye never swelled. I guess I should never be a wingman unless you want me to whack you with my wing. However, the Uber driver did ask for her number.

A few days later, I'm visiting a different friend. I had spent the previous two days with my brother and then another friend. My brother is vegan, and my other friend is vegetarian with a lactose intolerance, so basically a vegan, too. Anyway, the current friend asked what I'd like to do for dinner.

Me: "Honestly, I'm not picky, but I just spent two days with vegans, and I really want meat."

Last but not least, I was at a party with several friends and then more people I didn't know. A handful were people whose faces I recognized from Facebook and they may have liked comments I'd written on mutual friends' statuses. So they're like best friends once removed, right?

Anyhow, our host has just shouted we're leaving for the bars in fifteen minutes, which means chug, but also means we're not leaving for another 50 minutes. In that interim, I became entangled in a conversation about all our engaged peers. Several of us were saying we couldn't imagine being engaged, let alone in a relationship (I plead guilty), but my best friend once removed was like, "Haha."

Me: "Are you dating someone?"

She nodded.

Me: "Do you think you'll marry him? Sorry, that was forward."

My best friend once removed: "I mean, I guess? We've dated for, like, three years. I love him."

Me: "Is that enough, though?"

My friends (the ones who weren't once removed): "Cazey! You can't just ask that!"

Best friend once removed: "It also doesn't hurt that he has a good job. He's gonna make a lot of money."